


Vulnerability

by VanillaRage



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaRage/pseuds/VanillaRage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vilkas may be the one taking off his clothes, but it's Ria who feels naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Skyrim KinkMeme.

The old walls of Jorrvaskr are thick, sturdy things held together with more than just the bricks and mortar that hold up the hull of the old ship. They’ve guarded the Companions of Ysgramor for untold generations; there’s safety and a sense of security there for those who call its storied halls home. Quite a number of secrets, from small to large, have been kept in its long history, but none have been so closely guarded as the enormous, unwavering, never-ending crush Ria had on Vilkas. 

Ria knew her limitations; she’s no seductive beauty like Aela, and she doesn’t have the temperament to strong arm anyone into bending to her will like Njada. She’s a simple Imperial girl, mixing it up with a bunch of burly Nords (and a lone Dunmer). The Companions are her family. Stories of the Companions, of their honor and nobility, have touched her heart since she was a child, and now that she was part of that distinguished group, she refused to sully it with stupid, childish romances that inevitably soured into awkward tension. So she quietly nursed her infatuation in private while hoping no one noticed.

She tried to stop, once or twice; it would have been easier if she had fancied anyone else. Though Vilkas is intimidating, even when he often doesn’t mean to be, Ria knows he’s really extraordinarily kind underneath his gruff exterior. It was Vilkas who had vouched for her honor during her proving quest, and it was Vilkas who had taken her under his wing when she expressed an interest in learning the long sword. He began inviting her along on his frequent hunting trips for the opportunity to tutor her on her fighting skills. Though Ria had been no unskilled young blood, she had grown under his strict tutelage. His mentorship had paid off; it wasn’t long before Ria was able to handle any assignment given to her by the Circle easily, and oftentimes more efficiently, than some of the more seasoned warriors.

In those early days, Ria had allowed herself to hope; she’d read meaning into everything that Vilkas did or said. There had been plenty of instances when they had hiked far into the plains of the Hold and they wouldn’t be able to return to the city before daylight. They’d camped often, and the long conversations they’d have over the fire had said more to her than mere words could ever convey. 

But then Kodlak died, and everything changed. Any free time Vilkas had was no longer spent in her company, but rather in cozy, private conversation with the new Harbinger. Months passed without him asking her to join him on one of his trips, and recently when he left the Hall, it’s with the Harbinger at his side. They were gone for weeks; when they returned, Vilkas looked refreshed, reborn, and like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If there had ever been anything between Ria and Vilkas, it was obviously gone now.

Though it is a poor consolation, she is thankful she can heal her wounded heart with the same secrecy she had nursed her crush. Being allowed that much dignity enabled her to keep her head high and pretend the meager friendship she still has with him is enough. In fact, as time marches on, when the sun is warm and her purse is full of septims from a job well done, she can almost believe it.

It’s exactly one of those days as Ria finds herself sitting between Torvar and Athis at one of the tables in the big stone porch that faces the courtyard. All of the Companions are here; drinking, laughing, and placing bets. Two weeks ago the Harbinger had returned from one of their many trips, bringing with them their usual tales of honor and glory…along with a new wrestling move they picked up from a temporary traveling companion. Farkas in particular had been fascinated with this new move, and once he had mastered the basics he had challenged Vilkas.

Some things never change, and sibling rivalry is one of them. Vilkas had accepted this challenge with a grin and a taunt, and the match had been greatly anticipated. The excitement had pulled old Tilma from her cleaning rags, and had even managed to pry Eorland away from his precious forge to observe. 

It’s a good old fashioned bare knuckled fight, so there’s no need for weapons or armor. Farkas came out of Jorrvaskr wearing a pair of trousers and nothing else; Vilkas was more conservative with the addition of a simple homespun shirt.

Farkas swaggered immediately into the courtyard, but Vilkas took the time to pause near Ria, stretching out his arms as he watched his twin throw a few punches in the air to warm up. 

“Where’s the betting headed?” he muttered just low enough for only her to hear him. 

“It favors Farkas,” she chuckled at the indignant look that crosses over Vilkas’ face. She patted his back consolingly. “I bet on you,” she told him in an overly placating tone. 

Vilkas barked out a laugh. “He may be bigger, but I’m faster. With such a vote of confidence, how could I lose?” He walked away, still smiling as he went to meet his brother out on the courtyard.

As the Harbinger had been the one who indirectly started this latest competition, it had been decided that it would be the Harbinger’s signal that would start the fight. From their place on the porch next to Aela, they raised their hand high into the air. When everyone quieted, and the twins readied their stances, that hand dropped. The brawl began. 

The men circled each other, holding their fists close to their center as they grinned and eyed their opponent. Farkas feinted a left, and then threw a right, leaving Vilkas little time to bring his own arm to deflect the blow. The crowd on the porch broke out in to raucous cheering. Next to Ria, Torvar jeered. 

“That strength of Ysgramor ain’t gonna do you a damn bit of good if you can’t hit him, sludge for brains!”

Athis reached around to swat at the Nord, and Ria decided to vacate her seat before the two started their own fight. Across from her Aela and the Harbinger laughed as they slid apart to make room for Ria between the two of them. 

“A tactical retreat,” Aela approved as Ria sat down.

“She could take them both,” the Harbinger murmured while keeping their eyes on the brothers. “Ria, at least, takes her training seriously.”

It’s true that Ria resents the relationship between the Harbinger and Vilkas, but she’s tried hard not to turn that resentment directly onto the Harbinger. Since approaching Kodlak with the request to join, their conduct has been above reproach. They’ve been an epitome of the Nord version of honor. They are stingy with their praise; it’s so rare that when it comes everyone knows that it is well-deserved. Ria flushed with unexpected pleasure, thinking that if she’s reached the point where she can sincerely accept a compliment from the person who has captured Vilkas’ interest, maybe she can finally move past this pointless infatuation.

Out in the courtyard, Farkas hollers as Vilkas escapes from a headlock, and manages to throw his bigger sibling on the ground at the same time. Any pretense of finesse is gone from the two fighters and their sparring match has degraded into the simple brawl like everyone knew it would. Both men are bruised, and their knuckles are bloody, but they’re grinning like fools. The atmosphere is jovial and light-hearted; it feels almost like it did when Skjor and Kodlak were still alive.

The fight ends, and Vilkas reaches out a hand to help Farkas off of the ground. Farkas swats the proffered hand out of his way with a good natured grumble, so Vilkas laughs and takes off his shirt to mop the sweat off of his face. 

Vilkas’ chest is…magnificent. It’s thick with heavy muscle that comes with the years of heavy training and fighting that Vilkas has done. His abs are well defined, and there’s a line by his hips that point to his groin that makes Ria forget how to breathe for a second or two. She feels like she has just run head first into a wall of pure lust; she wants Vilkas in a primal, visceral way that takes her completely off her guard. She’s never seen Vilkas in any state of undress, and while she’s *imagined* it, often alone in her bunk, trying desperately to keep her moans of pleasure to herself, her imagination is sorely lacking when stacked against the wonder that is reality. There’s a sound of breaking glass, and it seems like every head is turned to look at her, Ria belatedly realizes the bottle she had just picked up to drink from has slipped from her suddenly boneless fingers to shatter upon impact with the floor. 

The blood rushes to her face, a deep red agony accompanied by the sudden overwhelming urge to become a hermit. In that instant she knows, bone-deep with perfect clarity, that everyone on that porch is aware of the secret writ large upon her face. It’s all she can do to mutter a barely audible excuse to go get Tilma, who had been sitting across the way and is already reaching for a broom to clean up the mess, before she bolts for the doors that have thus far provided her with sanctuary and comfort. 

Idle chatter and good natured ribbing resume almost immediately; Ria’s momentary lapse into a stuttering idiot is barely noticed, much less commented on. For all that the rest of them know she’s just had too much to drink; Shor knows that’s usually the cause when someone’s ale gets spilled on the floor. Later, when Ria has calmed down enough to think like the mature, rational adult she is, she’ll recognize that it’s not the big revelation she’d feared it would be. She’ll put her mask back on, pretend that nothing is wrong and everything is as it should be.

What Ria doesn’t know is that Vilkas noticed her abrupt departure, and the look he shoots toward Aela and the Harbinger is equal parts question and concern. Aela smirks as she brings a bottle of mead to her lips, and the Harbinger contents themselves with raising a pointed eyebrow in Vilkas’ direction. Somehow, this wordless dialog conveys to Vilkas exactly what he wants to hear and a slow, satisfied smile that has nothing to do with the fight he’s just won spreads across his lips. 

Ria doesn’t know it yet, but she’s just become prey.


	2. Vulnerability 2

The next morning Ria was up before the cock crowed. Through some kind of miracle no one had made an issue of her turning in early, and while she knew that the best way to move on from yesterday’s humiliation is to pretend it never happened, it’s much easier to do that after she’s had more than just a single night’s sleep to distance her from it. She dresses quickly, pulling on her hide armor as silently as she can. Torvar’s inelegant snoring hitches as she passes him by, and she scurries past him to continue to the main part of the hall. 

Farkas is the only one up, but he doesn’t bother her the way that anyone else would have. He’s tearing into a piece of roasted venison left out from the night before, and he smiles at her as she approaches. She reaches for an apple as inspiration hits. 

“Say Farkas, is there any work for me to do?” she asked.

Farkas chewed thoughtfully before he swallows and looks at her with an even stare. “Didn’t you just get back from a job just the other day? It’s good that you’re eager, but you don’t want to wear yourself out either. And I think Vilkas said he wanted to talk to you.”

Ria froze; it took every fiber of her being and every hard earned lesson she’s ever had on self-control to not outwardly react. Slowly and carefully, she took the seat next to Farkas, casually inspecting the red fruit in her hand. Inwardly, she was a panicky, flailing mess. It’s an odd juxtaposition she’d find fascinating at any other point in time.

“Do you know what about?” The small hint of worry that borders her question is no act, but she’s hoping Farkas isn’t able to pinpoint the real reason why she’s concerned. 

“You’re not in trouble,” he hastened to assure her, and she tries to convey an expression of relief. “It’s a personal thing, I think.”

“Oh,” she pretended to ponder this as she furiously tries to think up of an excuse. “I’ll see him out as soon as I get back then. Please Farkas? I could really use the money.”

“What do you need the coin for anyway?”

“I wanted to buy some Skyforge Steel,” she blurts out, surprising herself as much as she surprises Farkas. Both of his eyebrows shoot up.

“I didn’t know you were thinking of buying a new sword.”

Neither did she up until about two seconds ago. Ria plunges ahead with her lie, spinning it into a truth as she speaks. “It’s not that I need one but I’ve been with the Companions for a while, and it would be nice to commemorate that with one of Eorland’s pieces.”

Farkas stroked his chin. “Well, I’m not going to stop you if you’ve got your heart set on it. But the only jobs I’ve got are requests are to go scare some milk-drinker into submission. “

“I’ll take it,” she decided immediately.

“It’s out in Rorikstead,” Farkas told her. “Someone named Rorik.”

“Should be easy to remember,” she joked, pushing away from the table. 

“Hey, what about Vilkas?” Farkas called after her. 

She pauses for a breadth of a second, but her earlier lie has her on a roll. Her excuse slips easily off her tongue. “You said it was a personal thing, correct? I’m sure it can wait until I get back. If it were important, he’d have spoken to me about it yesterday.” 

Through practice and necessity Ria had learned out to pack light. She wrapped up some bread and cheese to take with her, fastened her blade to her hip, swung her knapsack over her shoulder and was out the door just as she heard Vilkas enter the hall proper and greet his brother. She kept her gait deliberately unhurried as she strolled past the Gildergreen, down into the plains district, and towards the large gates that kept the city protected. It was so early there was no one out and about except for the Guards. She nodded to one in passing as he nodded back. 

Her status as a Companion allowed her to easily pass through the city at almost any time of the day even with the steadily approaching beat of war. While she waited patiently as the Guards hauled the doors open enough for her to pass, she heard her name being called over sound of the creaking wood and groaning chains. She saw Vilkas approach as she turned around in response; her stomach knotted, her throat constricted, but she raised her hand in greeting and plastered a smile across her face.

“Hail Shield-Brother,” she called as he came near.

“Good morning, Shield-Sister,” he returned as his lips quirked up in a small half smile. “Farkas told me you’re heading out to Rorikstead. I have a job in Markarth myself, so I thought I would try to catch up to you in case you wanted some company on the road.”

“I would never turn down the chance to spend time with you Vilkas,” Ria smiled at him. “I always welcome your companionship.”

They walked down the winding path that took them out to the main road. There were more guards stationed outside of the walls, and Vilkas took the time to exchange a few pleasantries with each of them. Ria didn’t grow impatient; it saved her from making conversation with Vilkas herself. When the path ended and they turned right toward Rorikstead and Markarth, she felt a pang of regret. There was no longer the buffer of other people to dampen the awkward tension she felt. Rorikstead was at least an eight hour trek on foot, and Ria desperately wracked her brains trying think of anything to talk about. She was tense, ill at ease, and pretending to be otherwise was putting her on edge. Conversation was necessary so she wouldn’t be stuck in her head worrying and fretting. 

“So Farkas says you took a muscle job,” Vilkas mused, beating her to the punch. “Kind of unusual for you; I thought you didn’t like those.” 

“I’m trying to branch out a little,” she fibbed. He shot her a side-glance before shifting his gaze forward. 

“Hn.”

It was just one little syllable, but it immediately put her on the defensive. That ‘hn’ made her feel like she was hiding something.

She _was_ , but that was beside the point. 

“I know I’ve said in the past that I’ve seen no honor in bullying people for money,” she spoke slowly, buying herself the time she needed to think of a motivation that was remotely believable and didn’t paint her as a hypocrite. “But maybe I’ve just been looking at it wrong. Maybe I was missing something. And you’re always telling me to branch out so I thought –!”

Vilkas held up a hand, effectively cutting off her building tangent. “Ria, as pleased as I am to see you expanding your viewpoint, you don’t have to justify yourself or your actions to me.”

Ria opened her mouth, then shut it immediately as she felt herself flush. They both walked on in silence, watching the sun kiss the sky good morning with rosy pinks and brilliant yellows. 

“So you have a job in Markarth, then?” she asked, breaking the silence about half an hour later. Vilkas launched into a lengthy description of the situation that waited for him; an escaped prisoner, with the added bonus of incompetent guards. As she listened to him talk, whatever tension she had imagined essentially dissipated like early morning dew. 

_Two Hours Later_

“Ylgar was…the younger brother?” Ria asked. 

“The elder. Yngol was the younger brother. Together the two sons of Ysgramor were formidable. Ylgar was a brilliant strategist, and Yngol was determination personified upon the field of battle. There are stories where the two of them…”

_Three Hours Later_

“Bears aren’t really that much of a threat,” Vilkas was saying. “Unless it’s a mother with her cubs which is an entirely different case all together. Moose, on the other hand, are territorial. When I was younger lad around my fifteenth year, a Moose treed me for half a day.”

Ria snorted in surprise, and tried to cover it up by faking a cough. The grin playing at the corner of Vilkas’ mouth suggested her deception had failed. 

“How did you get down?” she asked, trying to keep her giggling tempered to a minimum.

“Skjor and Kodlak came looking for me when they noticed my absence. I was absolutely humiliated, but they never told anyone of my disgrace.”

“Well, if we’re trading humiliating stories from our youth, let me tell you the tale of the time my Mother…”

_Two Hours After That_

Rorikstead was slowly, but steadily looming larger on the horizon. It was a surprise how quickly time seemed to have flown; it had been largely uneventful and simply filled with good conversation. The easy camaraderie that had been the hallmark of all their previous trips together had returned as easily as if it had never disappeared. Their conversation ebbed and flowed; they had discussed all manner of topics, or had just silently enjoyed each other’s company when they had nothing to speak of. It had been pleasant and Ria loathed seeing it end. 

Though it was still daylight, Ria had neither the energy nor the inclination to initiate her contract that day. She was tired, footsore, hungry, and from the way Vilkas had begun good naturedly grumbling for the past half hour, so was he. They both headed into Frostfruit Inn, where the Innkeeper lit up at the sight of Vilkas’ signature Wolf Armor. 

“The Companions,” the Innkeeper greeted with a wide smile as they approached. “Have you come to fulfill my contract?” Ria pursed her lips and tried not to look offended as the Innkeeper focused all of his attention on Vilkas while all but ignoring her.

“She is,” Vilkas nodded his head in Ria’s direction. “I’m just passing through.”

The man’s elated expression fell so quickly it could almost be heard hitting the floor as he compared tall, striking, muscular, masculine Vilkas the Nord to Ria’s shorter, smaller, slender Imperial build. It was clear that the man was struggling with tact as he looked from one to the other. Finally he sighed.

“I suppose she’ll have to do; it’s not as if Rorik is in the best of shape to begin with.”

Ria’s lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. “Please don’t tell me you hired me to fight a disabled man.”

“It’s not what you think,” the Innkeeper lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “We all pitched in; Rorik is the tax collector for Rorikstead. Taxes have increased, and I do understand that there’s a war on but…” The Innkeeper sighed as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Two years ago, Rorik collected the taxes and two weeks later had a new stallion. This year it was fresh cattle. It doesn’t take a scholar to figure out he’s been skimming from the top.”

“Why haven’t you reported this to the Jarl?” Ria bit out.

“How can we prove it?” The words were bitter. “We just wanted to send a clear message to Rorik that we know. We’re a small settlement out here; we rely on each other. Have to, out of necessity. He’ll tell travelers passing through that he founded this settlement like it’s not common knowledge Rorikstead has been around since at least the First Era. He had to learn, for his own sake as well as ours, that his back isn’t the only one worth watching.” He looked away and his muttered, “But I suppose now he’ll never learn,” was almost inaudible.

Vilkas slapped the table with an open hand, glaring into the Innkeeper’s startled eyes. “My Shield-Sister is more than capable of fulfilling your **request**. She brings honor and glory to the Companions; do not disrespect her by questioning her abilities before you’ve even seen them.” Vilkas held the gaze of the man until the Innkeeper cast his eyes downward. Vilkas threw down a handful of septims in an angry gesture. 

“Dinner and a night’s lodging,” he ordered tersely. 

The Innkeeper silently showed them to their room, and a few minutes later brought them a plate of roasted meat, some cheese, fruit, and a bottle of spiced wine. Ria helped herself liberally. There was more than enough and she was famished. 

“So, “she said lightly to a still taciturn and moody Vilkas, “Are you sure my being here isn’t superfluous? Because I’m fairly certain you are far more intimidating than I ever will be.”

Vilkas chuckled quietly as he took the plate Ria offered to him. “I am sorry; I stepped out of line. I am aware you are quite capable of defending your own honor.”

“Thank you,” Ria said brightly. “For knowing that. And defending my honor anyway. It’s gratifying to know you hold my skills in such high regard.”

“Of course I do,” Vilkas blinked at her. “I’ve helped guide you; I know better than anyone how much you’ve learned and improved. It should be no wonder I hold you in such high esteem.”

Ria ducked her head to hide her blush, shoving food into her mouth to avoid having to reply. Vilkas watched her with an unreadable expression which, inexplicably, just made her blush harder. She turned her back on him and gave an exaggerated yawn. 

“I think I’m going to turn in,” she announced. 

“Probably a wise idea,” Vilkas agreed. The unmistakable sound of buckles and belts being undone caught her attention, and she whirled on her heel to stare at him with a wide eyed stare just as he was removing his cuirass. 

“What are you doing?” she asked dumbly.

“Preparing for bed,” was the smooth reply. The next second had Vilkas removing his under tunic and Ria’s frazzled brain nearly shorted out.

If anything, seeing Vilkas without his shirt affected Ria even more than the previous day’s demonstration. Maybe it was the intimate atmosphere. Maybe it was his close proximity. Probably it was a combination of both. 

She wanted to dig her fingers into his pectorals to see if the musculature there felt as firm as it looked. She wanted to run her fingers through his chest hair, starting at his nipples and following it all the way to where it tapered into a line that disappeared down to the waistline of his pants. She wanted to trace his scars with her mouth and hear the stories of how he got them. She wanted to see the expressions he made in the throes of passion and most of all she wanted to be the reason he made them. 

“But…what…this is…that is…” Vilkas lifted an eyebrow at her, clearly amused at her sudden incomprehensible stuttering. “What if attacked were we in the middle? Night? Middle of the night?” she finally managed. 

“Under the roof of a secure building? In a well-established settlement?” Vilkas snorted. “I’ll take that chance. As a concession to propriety I did bring along a pair of linen leggings.”

“A concession…” Ria’s brain tried to wrap itself around the implication. Her dignity tried very hard to prevent it. 

“I usually sleep in the nude,” Vilkas clarified. His voice had gone husky and deep, part of Ria noted with nearly clinical detachment.

The rest of her was indulging in one of her favorite past times; creating a mental picture. 

“What about you?” Vilkas’ question snapped her out of her private reverie. 

“What about me what?” She asked, dazed. She shook her head to gather her wits about her. 

“You said you were going to prepare for bed. Surely you don’t intend to sleep in your armor.”

Ria had actually packed a night shift to sleep in, but it was going to remain right where she put it this morning; at the bottom of her knapsack. She’d known that the moment that Vilkas had asked to accompany her as a traveling partner. 

“My armor’s comfortable enough,” she said a tad defensively, climbing into bed. Facing the wall as she was, she missed the look of slight puzzlement crease Vilkas’ brow. “I don’t want to upset the Harbinger.”

“What does the Harbinger have to do with anything?” he asked, utterly baffled. Ria ignored his question, yawning, large, loud, and so obviously fake that he didn’t bother repeating himself. She heard him climb into his own bed, and she tried to fall asleep.

Luckily all of her warrior training had allowed her to learn how to segment and sequester off her thoughts, allowing her to get the rest she needed. The next morning, she was the first to wake and she left Vilkas to sleep as she went to procure their morning meal. The Innkeeper, who introduced himself as Mralki, had a much more respectful tone and was more than happy to provide the two Companions with whatever she requested. As they dickered over the price, Rorik walked in and Mralki pointed him out. 

Ria studied the older man for a minute, looking for his weaknesses and his strengths. She could tell from his posture he’d been a warrior himself once, but his limp indicated that he wasn’t any longer. Pushing herself away from Mralki, she approached the older Nord. 

“Rorik?” Her tone was polite, but she didn’t return his smile when he turned his head to look up at her.

“What can I help you with, young lady?”

Ria kept her expression dispassionate and her eyes flat. “I’m Ria. From the Companions. I’ve been summoned to help settle a dispute.”

Rorik dropped all pretenses of affability. “You can’t be serious. I haven’t done anything that would warrant the involvement of the Companions.” 

Ria narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you sure of that?”

Rorik’s eyes flickered between Mralki and the young, red-headed Nord who had turned around in his seat at the table to stare at the old man. Rorik turned his attention back to Ria. 

“You will not intimidate me into submission,” he declared, pushing himself out of his chair. Ria waited patiently until he was clear of the chair; she refused to sully the fight with cheap tactics and under-handed trickery. Rorik claimed the first swing, and the fight began in earnest. 

There were no cheering crowds, or good natured taunts spurring them on in this brawl. If there had been, Ria probably wouldn’t have heard them anyway; there was a special place she went to in her own head when she fought. It was detached, cold, and logical; it told her to strike when a target was going to present itself, told her to duck any incoming blows, and to block when it was appropriate. 

Rorik was a still skilled fighter despite his advanced age; if Ria had fought him during his prime she would have been hopelessly outclassed. His fists were huge, powerful things and she took more of his hits than she would care to admit. It was all she could do to hold her ground, but his grunts of pain when her own swings made contact helped encourage her. 

They fought to a stalemate; Rorik’s mouth was bleeding, and Ria was almost sure her hand was broken. They circled each other, their hands up in a guard position and their eyes on their opponent when Rorik suddenly dropped his fists and drew himself up to his full height. 

“I yield, Companion,” he said. “Continuing is pointless and an exercise in futility.” He broke eye contact with her to look at the citizenry gathered around them – Ria blinked in surprise to find herself surrounded on all sides by people in a room that had been nearly empty when they had started. 

“However, you can consider the dispute settled,” he said, and she got the distinct impression it wasn’t to her that he was speaking. He clasped her firmly on the shoulder. “You fought well. With experience, you will become quite formidable.”

Rorik walked away, batting away the attentions of a fussy…retainer? Friend? Lover? Ria didn’t know, and didn’t much care as she sunk into an empty seat with an exhausted sigh. Her hand ached, she was sore all over, and she was pretty sure she was going to have a black eye if she didn’t have one forming already. 

“That was magnificent.”

Ria peeked out of one eye to see Vilkas standing over her, his expression almost reverent as he looked over her bruised and battered body. In one hand he held a clean cloth and in the other he had a bottle of something that looked like it would sting if applied to her wounds. She winced in anticipation. 

“I lost,” she pointed out as he adjusted the seat next to her to start applying first aid. He used some of the contents of the bottle to dampen the cloth before he applied it to the cut just below her eye; she was right. It did sting.

“You didn’t win,” Vilkas agreed, concentrating on his task with a steady hand. “But you didn’t lose.”

“That makes no sense,” she argued.

“Quit squirming,” he ordered. “There’s losing, and there’s _losing_ , if you catch my meaning.”

“I don’t see a difference,” she admitted. 

“The client was pleased enough to give me the payment,” Vilkas murmured. He was so close she could feel his breath tickle the hair on her head and her own breath stilled. “He also gave me an apology for his earlier dismissal of you.”

“Oh,” she said. And that simple word just about covered it. She peeked out of her lashes to see Vilkas staring at her intently. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip; she wasn’t sure it wasn’t intentional. 

“My hand,” she croaked out, trying to remember that Vilkas was taken and there was no honor in conducting an affair with a man who held the heart of another. “I think it may be broken.”

Vilkas took her proffered hand in his own, gently prodding at it with his fingers. It ached, but there was no sudden jolt of pain indicating a break. 

“Just hurt,” was his diagnoses. “You’re lucky it didn’t break, considering you’ve never fought like that before. You have to develop your fist into a weapon if you want to use it effectively.” His gentle prodding had become a warm caress, and it was an effort to not fall into his spell. She disentangled her hand from his with a weak laugh.

“I’ll make sure I do that,” she said, standing. She had to get away from Vilkas, away from whatever magic he was doing on her mind and her heart. She all but ran into the room they had rented, gathering the little bit of belongings that she had carried with her, and prepared to leave. 

Vilkas hadn’t moved from his spot by the time she came back out carrying her knapsack. She stopped in front of him and tried to ignore the hurt that was clearly on his face. 

“I’ll…” she faltered, swallowed, and tried again. “I’ll report back to Farkas. Tell him I was successful. Thank you for….thank you, Vilkas. Please return safely.”

“Do you mean that?” Vilkas nearly growled at her. 

The sudden venom in his voice shocked her. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Vilkas shot up out of his chair to crowd her. She placed her hands on his chest plate and backed up as he stepped forward. He’d never scared her before, but he was starting to now. 

“Are you sure? Because you seem rather intent on getting away from me.” His hand reached up and gripped the wrist of her good hand. It didn’t hurt, but there was a definite pressure. 

Being in such close proximity to him wasn’t helping; she needed to think. Her back hit the wall of the inn, and she closed her eyes in a futile attempt at distance. Panicked, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. 

“But the Harbinger…”

“Divines **take** the Harbinger!" Vilkas exploded, slamming his fist on the wall behind her startling her so badly her eyes popped open. "What do they have to do with anything?" 

“Because…” Ria tried to calm her breathing. Vilkas crowded her further. 

“I asked you that last night. I asked you just now. Don’t make me ask you again.” 

“Because you belong to the Harbinger!” Ria cried out, shutting her eyes. “I won’t dishonor you or the Harbinger by assigning meaning to nothing.”

The absence of Vilkas’ presence was almost immediate; her hand was dropped and when Ria dared to open her eyes Vilkas was standing a good three feet away. Wide eyed surprise was not a look she was used to seeing on his painfully handsome face. 

“You think…” he started, and rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She tried to sound strong, but was terribly afraid she came across as contrite. “They came, and now you…I assumed too much before, and I’m not going to do it again.”

If Vilkas had a reply, she didn’t stay around long enough to hear it. She ducked out the door, and headed down the road toward the Hold capital. She didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 cleaned up and edited for publication here. Man, don't you hate it when you find all the stupid screw ups after you post the darn things?


	3. Chapter 3

Farkas, it seems, has a pair of loose lips. By the time Ria returns to Jorrvaskr later that day everyone knows of her goal to outfit herself properly befitting a Companion with Skyforge Steel. It’s a worthy goal, one that draws unanimous support from her comrades-in-arms, and as Aela points out, a necessary one. Ria, in her own quiet way, has begun making a name for herself. While it’s not frequent, contracts have come in requesting her by name and it would be best to be equipped for whatever attention that fame garners her. 

Aela, Farkas, or the Harbinger always has some work for her to do. Though it originally started as a back door fib, Ria watches her purse fill up with her hard-earned septims with a sense of pride and a growing impatience for new equipment. It’s been decided that she won’t be just commissioning Eorland for a new sword; Farkas had suggested that she also trade in her hides for heavy armor, with Aela strongly in agreement. Ria had conceded to their wisdom, and by the time the first of Heartfire comes and goes, she’s saved enough. Eorland takes her money and her measurements then gruffly orders her to stick around for the next few weeks or so until he’s done. 

Since work was off the table until she was no longer shackled to Whiterun, Ria traded in her leathers and boots for a dress and a pair of sensible shoes. The boredom is maddening; after a constant stream of work that had kept her busy and her mind occupied, the sudden absence left her strangely off-kilter. She has far too much time on her hands, and most of that time is spent thinking about Vilkas despite her sternly worded warnings to herself that that was not going to happen. 

It’s been two months since Rorikstead and she hasn’t seen him since. She thinks (hopes) she hasn’t been purposefully avoiding him, but she knows that is how it must look. She’s always gone when he gets back, chasing down another hostage, another criminal, another trinket, and while the reverse is also true, she always comes home to a message that Vilkas was looking for her. This last trip, the one that brought home enough gold for her to buy herself a break, Tilma, Farkas and even _Vignar_ have come up to her to tell her at one point that Vilkas had been asking for her. She can’t put this meeting off for much longer. If the truth is told, she doesn’t really want to. She’s had more than enough time to screw up the courage to face this dilemma head on for one thing. For another she’s doing exactly what she had been trying to prevent in keeping her feelings a secret. It’s in a small way, but the Companions have already been impacted by playing messenger. Ria refuses to involve them in her stupid, petty personal drama any more than necessary. 

She does a lot of busy work around Jorrvaskr while she waits; there are a thousand little chores that have to be seen to on a daily basis, and Tilma is but just one woman. Ria scrubs the spit, and cleans the fire pit of its accumulated ash and soot. She drags the long rugs from the sleeping quarters outside for a long over-due beating. The beds are remade with fresh straw, and the leather hides are given thorough airing. It’s enough work to give Ria a new appreciation for what Tilma does, and when the old woman expresses her heartfelt gratitude to her, Ria hesitantly says something to Aela about hiring an assistant to help with the caretaking duties. In a few days a young woman whose husband is out fighting on one side or the other in the civil war is at Tilma’s side, learning how to care for the Companions of Jorrvaskr. Ria is once again left with too much time on her hands and too many thoughts in her head. 

She trains relentlessly out in the courtyard until she’s spent and exhausted, too tired to think and too tired to dream. At her request, Farkas has provided her with some lessons on how to fight effectively with her fists. One of the exercises he has for her is to punch one of the dummies one hundred times a day, every single day. It’s a slow, tedious task, and her hands are red and raw when she’s done, but red and raw is a definite improvement over cracked and bleeding. 

She’s on number 63 when the Harbinger comes out onto the porch. They watch her go through her paces for a few seconds before speaking up. 

“Vilkas just got back,” they say. Ria misses her next swing and they pretend not to notice. “Asked for you the moment he opened the door.” 

Ria’s punch connects a little too hard; her knuckles crack painfully and she swears under her breath. She’s tried to keep her interactions with the Harbinger at a minimum out of shame and disgrace and the all-too-knowing quality in the Harbinger’s voice strikes just a little too close to home for Ria’s taste. “Is that so?” Ria manages to choke out. 

“Just like he’s done every other time he’s come home from a job,” the Harbinger affirms. There’s a knowing smile playing at the corner of their lips that thrusts the knife in Ria’s belly just that much deeper. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No!” Ria’s cry is shorter, sharper and more panicked than she intended. The Harbinger’s grin widens. 

“Not with me then? That’s fine, of course. The offer is open if you change your mind.” They turn toward the door, but they have one final parting shot before disappearing into the hall. “By the way, I told him I would pass along the message when I next saw you.”

Ria’s heart is hammering away in her chest at what feels like a thousand beats a minute. For whatever reason, the Harbinger has seen fit to give Ria the ability to approach Vilkas on her own terms and in her own time. It’s an unexpected gift from an unexpected source and any lingering resentment Ria has for the Harbinger is gone like so much dust on the wind. It helps strengthen her resolve that she needs to confess her hidden shame so that they can all move past this and return to normalcy.

But first…she finishes her training exercises. 

She only gives herself an hour to prepare. This is more for Vilkas’ sake than hers; she wants to give him time to rest before she dumps her stupid, silly, shallow self at his feet. It’s with grim determination that she marches down into the living quarters of Jorrvaskr, passing the new girl, Idun, lugging the big tub they use for bathing away from the rooms reserved for the Circle. Normally Ria would offer to help, but she can’t afford to be distracted right now. Though Vilkas’ door is open when she approaches, she knocks with a quick rap of her knuckles anyway. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, and there’s no indication that he’s in his room anyway. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Vilkas growls from somewhere out of her line of sight. “If you have business with me, then come on in.”

The conviction and courage that had filled her mere moments ago flees at the obvious and blatant irritation in his voice, allowing nerves to rush in and fill the void. 

“Is this a bad time? I can come back later.” She hates that she can’t hide the small tremor in her voice. 

There’s a sudden scrape of a wooden chair being swiftly dragged across a stone floor in one breath and Vilkas appears in front of her on the next. 

The dawning comprehension of just who had been using that tub comes a fraction too late; Vilkas is freshly scrubbed, freshly shaved, his black hair is still damp and hanging about his shoulders. Of course, because she’s become some sort of plaything of the Divines, he’s naked from the waist up. Free from the dirt of the road and the sour smell of sweat, Ria has the realization that compared to now, all of those other instances where she’s had the debatable luxury of admiring him in such conditions he had only been merely admirable. 

“Ria,” he says, and relief flashes over his face before his expression settles into something neutral and unreadable. She swallows hard as he silently invites her in by moving back and making a sweeping gesture with one arm. 

She takes him up on his invitation, taking a hesitant step in. His books are directly in front of her sight and she pointedly admires them, and then his décor, and everything that isn’t him. “I’m glad you made it back safely,” she offers as a way to break the silence. 

“You, as well,” he replies, moving behind her. The doors close, and she tries not to flinch as they click shut. She opens her mouth to offer the usual banalities; how are you, how was your trip, the weather sure is lovely this time of year don’t you think, but what comes out instead is:

“I need to offer you an apology.”

Vilkas is behind her and she can’t see him, but she can hear him shift his weight behind her. It was easy to imagine him in her mind’s eye. He probably had his arms crossed, emphasizing his intimidating physique with a menacing scowl to go along with it. She can feel his silent regard on her; he’s judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one package. 

“Go on,” his reply is low and gruff. In another situation it would have made her toes curl. Now it just makes her want to bare her throat in supplication and beg for mercy.

“My behavior in Rorikstead was inexcusable,” she begins by enumerating her sins so he can pass judgement. “I assumed too much, and allowed it to interfere with our working relationship. I am the direct cause of the awkward and strained tension between us now Shield-Brother –“

“Vilkas,” he interrupts her with that same throaty growl. “In this room, you will call me by my name Ria.” 

She swallows thickly around the sudden lump in her throat at his chastisement. “Vilkas.” It takes her a moment to re-center herself; she takes a deep breath and continues. “I humbly ask for your forgiveness for allowing a girlish daydream to interfere with our working relationship. I am prepared to face whatever consequences the Circle deems appropriate.” 

He began circling her, stalking her as a wolf would an injured deer. “Oh? What girlish daydreams are you speaking of?” Each word slowly and clearly rolled off his tongue. Blood rushed to her face as she realized he was expecting her to lay her biggest sin out in the open for his inspection. 

“That is…” she tried and faltered as the enormity of what she was to confess loomed large ahead of her. 

“That is?” Vilkas prompted.

“I…”

“You…imagined us picking flowers, perhaps? Maybe it was playing hopscotch. What other girlish pursuits are there?” There was a hint of mockery in his tone. “Come Ria. Explain further.”

“I came to care for you,” she finally admitted, the words tumbling out of her mouth like jesters down a staircase. “More than a Shield-Sibling. More than I should.” She took a shaky breath, determined to bear out the rest of her confession now that the hard part was over. “It was presumptuous and arrogant of me, but I began to think that perhaps you felt the same way. That maybe you could see me as more than just a whelp. But then the Harbinger…” she paused as her momentum petered out. 

“The Harbinger,” Vilkas drew the word out, casually having sex with every syllable on his glib tongue. Ria jerked at his smug, selfish timbre; he sounded the way a fat cat whose been offered a bowl of the richest cream served on a satin pillow looked. “Please, do tell me how the Harbinger is involved.” 

It takes an effort to start, but she begins to clarify what she’d only been able to speak of in the most general terms before. 

“The Harbinger is everything a Companion should be,” she says lowly, remembering her earlier gratitude to that same person and trying desperately to keep the note of jealousy from becoming too apparent. “They fight well, they drink well, they comport themselves with honor and nobility. They give no false praise but honest criticism. They’re everything we should all strive to be. They’re far better suited for you, and I lacked the strength of will to let go of the feelings in my heart as I should have as I watched you become closer.” 

“Have you found that strength of will?”

Her quiet no was deafening _and_ damning. She waited quietly in silence for her punishment, hoping for mercy and expecting none. 

“I see,” was all he said. As the silence stretched and it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything more, Ria began to fidget. 

“Is..there anything else?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask that question? You’re the one who came to me.”

“I…no. No, I don’t have anything else to say. Except to say that I am sorry I became a nuisance. I’ve taken enough of your time, I think.”

She took his silence as acquiescence, and turned to face the doors. Despite keeping her gaze lowered to the floor she could still see him in the corner of her eye and her heart broke a-new. She grasped the wooden handle of the door, but before it could open more than an inch or two, a large hand shot out to flatly slap against the wood, wrenching the handle out of her grip and slamming it shut with a finality that filled her with a panic-inducing dread. 

His other arm rested lightly against the other door and his taller, wider, frame leaned heavily against her back, easily caging her smaller build with his bulk. Ria’s breathing went shallow as she felt his lips press against the shell of her ear and his nose bury itself into her hair. 

“You,” he murmured in that same sultry voice he’d been using the entire time, “seem to be laboring under a few misconceptions, and I feel it’s about time we cleared the air.”


	4. Vunerablity 4

Ria has her front firmly pressed into the doors of Vilkas’ bedroom; her hands are splayed against the smooth grain of the wood. The thought that if she could only push hard enough she could get away from him flits through her mind, but it’s a silly nonsensical notion. His doors swing inward after all. 

Vilkas looms over her, and she can smell his masculine aroma over her own fear. His room is all around her and she shuts her eyes in a fruitless attempt to keep him out. Their breathing intermingles; hers is the loud and heavy exhales of a scared animal caught in a trap. His is the quiet inhale laced with the cocksure confidence of a predator who has finally obtained what they have been long denied. There’s a rasp of skin sliding against wood, but she can’t hear it over the blood pounding in her ears. She’s surprised as the banded steel of Vilkas’ arms wrap around her waist to pull her flush against him. 

“I have waited too long to hold you like this,” Vilkas’ simple statement is laden with want, need, and desire so obvious that Ria can no longer fool herself with questionable comfort of denial. It’s a chaotic anarchy in her own head – Hope that she had thought dead had been merely dormant, blossoming in her chest and spreading a warmth not unwelcome throughout her entire body. But the cold, logical, clinical part of her, that part that kept her alive during combat and therefore a part she could not ignore; the part that had judged her against the Harbinger and found her wanting… 

That part remained steadfast in its disbelief. 

“Don’t tempt me, Vilkas.” Her voice cracks as she appeals to him, and she hates herself a little bit for it. “If this is a test, it’s a cruel one. You are far too honorable to manipulate me like this.”

“You think too highly of me,” he sighs. She can feel his puff of breath brush against her cheek like a fleeting kiss. “I am only a man, no better than most. But this is no test Ria. The Harbinger has no claim on me.”

It’s a moment that stretches into eternity; the world shifts on its axis and Ria forgets to use her lungs to take in air. Her fingers curl into the wooden doors, trying to touch something real and tangible. She’s dreamed of this moment for so long she half expects to wake up at any second. 

“But they’re always with you, and you both are always talking and -!”

She finds herself suddenly spun around as her back hits the doors with a small thud. Her hands are held above her head, pinned by his larger ones, and his body is pressed so tightly against hers a piece of parchment couldn’t have fit between them. 

Vilkas’ mouth is on hers; hungrily claiming the kiss he felt was his due. His lips moved insistently, and when his teeth bite at her bottom lip she gasps more in surprise than in pain. Vilkas presses his advantage to deepen the kiss. 

His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting, and teasing.The kiss evolved from wild and fervent to sensual and exploratory as he took his time exploring. He pulled his mouth away from hers to trail his lips against her jawline, leaving a series of well-placed nips that left her knees rather wobbly. He paused as he slid his hands up her wrists to interlock his fingers with her own. They were both breathing heavily as Vilkas rested his forehead in the crook where her neck met her shoulder. 

“I was unworthy of you,” he confesses quietly. “I couldn’t..I wanted to. This small Imperial girl who shows more Nord honor than most Nords? You hold importance to the same things I do. I was thrilled when you wanted to learn swordsmanship, and hated it when you suggested you train with Aela instead. I coveted you even back then, and wanted to keep you to myself.” His fingers tighten their hold, though not painfully. Ria listens; she can do little else. 

“But I was unworthy,” Vilkas repeats, stressing that last word. “Unclean, and cursed with a burden almost too heavy to bear. I needed the Harbinger to help me erase that stain. And as I worked to become clean, to become worthy, you grew distant. It was a cruel irony.”

Ria’s heart clenches as she recognizes that oh-so-familiar bitterness that tinges Vilkas’ words. “We’re a couple of fools,” she murmurs. 

He lifts his head to look her in the eyes. “It’s exactly as you say,” he says with a smile. He releases her fingers to cup her face in his hands, tilting her head upwards to allow him to kiss her again. This kiss is a chaste, gentle, worshipful kiss. It’s a tender moment full of warmth and Ria has the sudden epiphany that she has seriously erred in calling what she feels for this man a mere crush. As Vilkas pulls away, she stares into his oddly beautiful eyes and thinks to herself:

_‘I am in love with this man.’_

Vilkas chuckles softly, and Ria colors as she realizes her inner voice had become an outer voice by mistake. 

“Do you now?” He sounds inordinately pleased with himself as he curls a lock of her hair around his fingers. “There are consequences to telling a man you love him while in his bedroom.” 

She flushes even harder as she remembers that she is, in fact, trapped in Vilkas’ room. The doors are right behind her. Somehow she had forgotten. 

“However,” Vilkas whispers in her ear, “as it so happens, I feel the same way about you.”

“Oh, good,” Ria smiles up at him despite her embarrassment and wraps her arms around him to hold him tight. It was such an underwhelming thing to say, so simple and hardly the right words after such a confession but she was so overwhelmed with happiness she couldn’t think of anything witty or clever that would be more apropos to the situation. 

“I should let you leave,” Vilkas half growls into the top of her head, lightly stroking her back with one hand as his other holds her tightly. “To better guard your reputation. But I have dreamed of you in this room for so long, I am loathe to let you leave.” 

“Then don’t,” Ria sighed. “I don’t want to let you go either.” 

“The others will know if you are not in your bunk tonight,” his warning was playful, but it was a warning nonetheless. Ria took it seriously, silently considering her options as she placed a hand on his broad chest. Vilkas took a breath and held it as she languorously allowed her fingers to run over his skin, over his pectorals, and down past the line of muscles of his abdomen. 

“You know what?” she said lightly, coming to a decision. She bit at her lower lip as she looked up at him, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his pants. “I believe I’m a grown woman..and I know exactly what I’m doing in this room.”   
Feeling brave, she let go of her hold on his pants so she could untuck the strings of her bodice from the fabric. His eyes grew hooded as he watched her nimbly untie the knot that kept them secure and the garment tight around her ribcage. With a deliberately slow pull she untangled both strings and allowed them to hang loose in a silent invitation. “I’m kind of hoping that everyone is simply going to have to get used to me not sleeping in my own bed.”

Vilkas worked slowly as he pulled the lacing from each individual grommet with the same attention to detail he put into everything he thought was worth doing well. “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he murmured into her neck. The bodice was becoming looser with each tug and it wasn’t long until the garment had enough give to slide down over her hips to fall to her feet. With a dainty kick, Ria sent it across the room and out of the way. Large hands gripped the material of her skirt, baring her body to view inch by inch until the dress was lifted over her head and tossed to a far corner of the room to join her bodice. With the exception of the bit of linen slung low on her hips, she was standing naked, and Vilkas looked at her with greedy eyes as a starving man would at an extravagant feast.

The light touch of his fingertip danced along her collarbone, skimming over old scar tissue. His touch followed down the line of her bicep, caressed her elbow, ghosted over the skin of her forearm until his hand captured hers. He brought her hand up to inspect her knuckles carefully. 

“I see you’ve been taking my advice,” he said with quiet approval, placing a lingering kiss on each of her knuckles between his words.

“I asked Farkas for some pointers,” she admitted, breathless as she watched his lips press into her red and swollen skin. 

“Did you?” he hummed, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve always been a fast learner.”

A sharp nip of teeth on her neck surprised her. A quick flick of a tongue assuaged the sting, though she was sure it was going to bruise. Given the placement was not an area easily covered, she was equally sure it had been done on purpose. All things considered she couldn’t bring herself to muster up the indignation to care; she rather liked the idea of being claimed by this man in such a primitive way. Especially since one of his talented hands had slipped between her legs to apply a gentle pressure through the thin fabric. When she attempted to bear down her hips to gain more friction he pulled his hand away. 

“Vilkas,” she pleaded.

“Ria,” he countered, splaying his fingers on her belly. 

“Touch me,” she begged, pressing herself against him while trying to put out the flame he had ignited within her. 

“I am touching you,” he whispered, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her abdomen for emphasis.

“Not like that!” she protested. 

“You’ll have to teach me,” he breathed in her ear, a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “How do you want me to touch you?”

“I don’t know!” Ria nearly wailed and bit her lip when she realized how much like a whiney child she sounded. Vilkas smirked down at her. 

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” his voice was husky as he shifted his body against her. She gasped as she felt the unmistakable bulge of his erection through his breeches. “When you’re alone, in a rare moment of hard won privacy, how do you touch yourself then? I would have you show me.”

Hesitantly, she reached for his hand still splayed on the warm skin of her belly. She was nearly overcome with shyness as she dragged his hand up to cover the swell of one breast, and as his fingers flexed and molded into the soft flesh she used her own trembling hand to guide and direct. 

Two fingers pinched at a nipple with nearly bruising force; the cry that tumbled out of her mouth in response was not one of pain. Vilkas’ eyes were dark as he watched her arch her back into his touch; his gaze intense as he felt her own fingers encouraging him to pull and pinch harder and as he took in the look of pleasure plainly seen on her face. 

“I had taken you to be some innocent maiden,” he growled just before his mouth closes around the peak of her other breast. His tongue swirls around the dusky nipple and he can feel it pebble and harden under his ministrations. “It’s not all tender words and gentle touches with you, is it?” he teased after another flick of his tongue. 

“Would I be a Companion if I were?” she shot back, rolling her hips at him enticingly. “Tender words and gentle touches have their place, but a bite of pain makes it a little more tangible, I think.” 

“You have a point there,” he chuckled. He worshipped her breasts with his teeth, his lips, his hands, and his touch. The feel and the sound and the sight of him on her body sent little jolts of pleasure to pool at her core, building up a delicious tension she was becoming impatient to release. 

Vilkas trailed down her body, leaving a series of searing kisses in his wake. He paused when he reached her hips, kissing along the band of her underwear. It was impossible to miss the sound of his deep inhale as he hooked his fingers into the swatch of fabric. 

“I can smell you,” he said. There was a hint of reverence in his tone that nearly made her laugh, but when he used one hand to slide across the damp fabric to touch her, she no longer felt like laughing. 

“Vilkas,” his name was a command wrapped in the pretty paper of a plea. With the same thoroughness he had demonstrated thus far, Vilkas carefully slid down the last remaining barrier she wore down her legs. His thumb gently stroked the arch of each foot as they were lifted in turn to relinquish her ownership of her most intimate piece of clothing. It did not escape her attention that Vilkas had chosen not to toss that article away to join her others.   
There was a rumble of primal male satisfaction as Vilkas buried his nose in the mass of curls at the apex of Ria’s thighs. The broad, flat stroke of his tongue had her both blessing and cursing his name in the same breath while large hands gripped her hips to hold her steady as Vilkas explored her most intimate areas. 

Her moans of pleasure were subdued and more often than not she would bite at her lips to prevent any sound from escaping at all. She was trembling with the effort to remain still; he could feel her shiver and the room could not be defined as cool in any sense of the term. It was a heady, powerful feeling to know she had trusted him enough to allow him free reign over her body, but Vilkas was running out of patience with Ria’s restraint. He nipped at the skin of her inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark. 

The startled gasp that was her response had him stroking himself before he gained some measure of self-control.

“Don’t be greedy,” he growled up at her. “I want to hear you.” His lips sealed around that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking the tip of his tongue once to tease her before pulling away. She whined low in her throat in protest. 

“Look at me,” he commanded and her eyes shot open as she hastened to obey. She watched, embarrassed but enthralled, as Vilkas pressed his lips to her. His silver eyes were captivating as his mouth moved against her, holding her gaze as she felt him taste and tease her. That tension was building even more, pooling at her center and she forget her embarrassment as that impending crest grew closer and closer. 

His name became a litany on her lips, interspersed with pleading and begging when she remembered how to use words. She was so close, nearing that crescendo and was in the middle of telling him so in broken Tamrielian as he pulled away. 

She nearly wailed at the sudden loss of friction that left had left her hanging. Vilkas looked volumes at her, a corner of his mouth quirked up in a sardonic grin that could almost be called cruel as he ran his big, calloused hands up and down the smooth skin of her thighs, soothing her nerves and bringing her down from that coveted high. Her limbs were shaking with need and want; her own look down at him was scorching in its heat. 

“The things your eyes promise me,” Vilkas murmured in a voice that was both rough and devoted. He placed a lingering, open mouthed kiss on the silky skin of her hip. “Give me what I want Ria,” he accented his command with a sharp nip of teeth. “I want to hear you scream my name.” 

“But they’ll hear—“ The part of her that labeled itself practical and sensible tried to chime in with an attempt at reason. The rest of her jumped that part and shoved it in a closet when Vilkas took two fingers to tease around her opening. She was slick, wet, open, inviting and his fingers slid in easily. 

Slow. Steady. Shallow. Vilkas kept his gaze locked on hers as he watched her breathing hitch as she felt the not unwelcome intrusion in her body. With a swordsman’s precision he would brush against her clit in measured strokes. At first it was every third pump of his fingers, then every other, until every time he pushed up he was stroking where she wanted the attention the most. She found herself teetering on the edge of that cliff once again, and this time she approached far more rapidly. 

Just as quickly she found herself bereft of his touch. 

“Ria,” his throaty growl was demanding as she writhed above him, trying every trick she knew and some she made up on the spot to entice him, craving to feel his heat on her skin and in her body. “I want to hear you.”

She let loose a small cry; in response he settled his hand on her hip. She was sensitive all over. Every nerve in her body was awake and felt almost sentient on their own; she could feel bumps and irregularities of the stone floor underneath the soles of her feet. There was a knot in the wood of the door right where her shoulder was pressed up against. This man had callouses on the palms against her hip. 

“Louder,” he ordered, his voice coarse with desire and need. It was impossible to ignore such a command, and she let her pleas for him grow in volume. Vilkas encouraged her by slipping one finger, and then two, back into sex-slicked entrance as her cries grew both in pitch and fervor. His mouth was tantalizing close, so near and so far; without thinking her hand reached to tangle in his dark hair to pull him closer. 

Vilkas responded eagerly to her wordless direction. As she grew even louder he lapped and suckled, nipped and kissed every crevice and every fold until he had discovered all of her secrets. Ria held his head in place, grinding her hips against his talented mouth. She looked a lewd picture with her legs spread wide, one hand grasping at Vilkas to pull him in further and deeper, while the other was busy fondling her own breasts. 

Though Ria was no shy virgin, she’d never felt this much, whether through her own ministrations or from a lover’s touch. Vilkas coaxed and guided her toward her climax with his skillful tongue and talented fingers. She arched her back against the wood of his door and screamed his name as the explosion of sensation hit her. It was all consuming and paramount as every part of her body throbbed in synchronized pleasure as she forgot everything she ever knew. 

The world faded into black for a moment, and when she opened her eyes she found herself a boneless mass on the floor, supported by the rugged strength of Vilkas’ arms. He was busy placing soft, fluttering kisses on her cheeks. When she turned her head to seek his mouth, those gentle kisses took on a veneer of passion. She could taste herself on his tongue and it wasn’t the turn off she’d thought it be. 

As pleasant as being in his arms was, she could feel his erection rather pressingly against her backside. Still pliant and content in post orgasmic bliss there was nothing more she wanted to give than that same feeling to her new lover. She took his face in her hands and controlled their kiss, adjusting her position over his body until she was kneeling in front of him. She shifted against him and Vilkas broke their kiss to let out a pleased groan of his own. 

She trailed her lips up his jawline to his ear, and nipped once. “We should move this to the bed,” she suggested, keeping her voice low and sultry as she slid her hips against his. “If we stay here, someone’s knees are invariably going to suffer.” 

Vilkas all but picked her up and threw her onto his bed across the room. She stretched out languorously, enjoying the molten heat of his gaze as his eyes feasted on her naked body. He only looked for a moment before his breeches were gone, and he was on top of her, and then he was in her.

He was murmuring in her ear, his accent too fast and garbled for her to comprehend each individual word, but she understood the general gist of what he was saying. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and stared up into his eyes as she felt him move within her. This felt complete, and it felt right, and it was almost worth all that waiting. She’d regret wasting so much time later; but as he stretched her to the point of fullness there was no room for any sort of regrets. Her legs found themselves around his hips, pulling her closer to him, and driving him in deeper. 

For a moment she felt like Vilkas was an extension of herself, and she was an extension of him. No other person had meant this much to her before and that gave what she was doing with him a meaning she’d never experienced before. Her fingers pressed against his cheek as he continued to drive into her with powerful thrusts. It was a gesture born of affection and tenderness as the enormity of making love occurred to her. 

Vilkas closed his eyes as he tried to stave off his own pleasure, wanting to bring her over that precipice with him one more time. It was an understanding that came to her without words, and she moved her own body in pace with his to help bring them closer to that edge so that when she fell over, he came with her. 

Vilkas was careful not to collapse on top of her, though he did wrap one arm around her shoulders and threw his leg over hers, cradling her body to his. Her head fit perfectly in the nook under his chin. Content and sated, they fell asleep clinging to each other. 

The early morning of dawn found her still cradled within the warmth of Vilkas’ arms. She made a small noise of contentment as she stretched; Vilkas let her go with a soft chuckle. 

“Good morning,” she greeted softly.

“Good morning yourself,” he replied, before his mouth captured hers in a kiss. They pulled apart, and Vilkas got up out of the bed. 

A sudden bout of nerves hit her as she watched him pull on his underclothing, tunic, and armor. 

“Does…” she trailed off, sitting up on the bed, wondering how to phrase her question without sounding needy and clingy. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as he turned around to look at her. “Does this change anything?”

One eyebrow quirked up. “In the grand scheme of things? It won’t change much,” he said gruffly as he went back to wrestling with his armor. Once that was suited to his liking, Vilkas approached the bed and kneeled down in front of her, grasping her smaller hand in his larger one. 

“We were lucky to have built a friendship before we became lovers,” he explained. “This only adds a new facet to our relationship. We already loved and respected each other before last night. The only thing that changes is how we can express it.” 

She nodded in agreement, a large smile spreading over her face as she threw her arms around him to hold him close. The armor was cold against her skin, but she didn’t want to let go. He reached up to stroke the hair on her head softly. 

“I suppose the only thing now is to figure out who gets the 50 septims,” he said with a sigh.

Ria pulled back, giving him a look. “What are you talking about?” she asked. 

He grinned as he stood up to retrieve her clothing for her. “Aela and the Harbinger have a bet going on as to the date of our wedding. Aela thinks it’ll be next year. The Harbinger believes it will occur before years end. Neither is aware I know of their wager.”

Ria began getting dressed as she mulled over this piece of information. As she laced up the bodice of her dress, she looked over at Vilkas with an innocent look. 

“I feel it would be horribly disrespectful to prove the Harbinger wrong…”

“And once again here you go talking about the Harbinger,” Vilkas sighed gustily. “However I happen to agree with you.”

They shared a conspiratorial grin before they walked out of his room to go greet their fellow Companions in the main hall, holding hands the entire way.


End file.
